We Are Young
by Stephane Richer
Summary: So let's raise the cup cause I found someone to carry me home


We Are Young

Disclaimer: I don't own _Bleach_ by Tite Kubo or "We Are Young" by Fun.

Author's Note: Ooh another story that has nothing much to do with the song I was listening to and got the original idea from. Oh, well.

* * *

Rain hummed on the windowpane like fingers drumming on a table, not that Ishida Ryuuken would ever do that. A rush of cold air blew through his pale hair, and from the corner of his eye he saw Katagiri Kanae shiver. He got up and headed over toward the window to shut it.

"Oh, you don't have to..."

"It's fine." He smiled. "I'm cold, too." A harmless lie. He shut the window softly and locked it.

Her eyes returned to her embroidery. Though she could sew swiftly while retaining her high level of skilled, she preferred to work slowly and more meticulously. It calmed her, and was something she could do even when sick or when shivering.

Ryuuken loved the formal language of his textbook, filled to the brim with medical terms he needed to memorize. He supposed rote memorization calmed him the same way intricate embroidery calmed her. But it was more than that, too. To anyone who asked, of course he wasn't going to medical school because of his sickly girlfriend. It was totally because doctors made a lot of money and it was respectable and it was a challenge.

Of course, his father saw right through him and patted his shoulder and took care of Katagiri when Ryuuken was at class. But on this particular Saturday night, both Ishida parents were away, not that Ryuuken minded the privacy. He doubted Katagiri minded, either. While his father liked her and had told her quite frankly that he would love to have her as a daughter-in-law, his mother disapproved and looked down on her because of her bloodline and health. It was a source of great tension between mother and son (not that they'd had a perfect relationship before, but it was at least okay on the surface) and it made Katagiri feel awful, as Mrs. Ishida made mo effort to hide her feelings or reserve her snide remarks for when the younger woman was not within earshot.

Katagiri paused in her embroidery, frowning. Did she need to adjust her hoop? Yes, she was done with this section for the most part. It would be much better to go back to it later, anyway. Her fingers were shaking a bit, and she dropped her thimble as she moved her fingers to adjust the outer hoop. "Oh!"

Ryuuken calmly reached down and grabbed it as it rolled toward his chair. He got up and placed it in her hand. His fingers were pleasantly warm, even though the room was still quite chilly.

He frowned at her cold hand, snatching the thimble back as well as the shirt she was embroidering and placing both on the table. She shot him a questioning glance, and he clasped her hands between his. "Please, tell me when your hands are cold. When you are cold."

"I don't want to trouble you..." She sighed; his hands felt wonderful.

"It's no trouble," he said softly, kneeling to be on eye level with her. "You do so much for me. I want to reciprocate."

She flushed a dark pink and glanced away. It was nice to see colour in her cheeks for once.

He continued to rub her hands, and they gradually warmed up. Eventually, he raised one hand to cup her jaw and tilt her head back to face him. This time, she did not break her gaze, and gradually he closed the distance between them and his lips met hers.

She gripped his other hand tightly with both of hers. After a few seconds, he broke away and his hand dropped from her chin to rest on her shoulder. "Please don't shut me out."

The hurt look on his face was too much for her, but she resisted glancing away. "Please don't look at me like that."

His gaze softened a little and he kissed her again. She deepened the kiss, leaning up and into him.

Quietly, they stood up. The sudden movement made her dizzy, and she steadied herself on his sturdy body. Immediately, he picked her up. Again, she blushed.

"I've got you," he murmured into her ear. She nuzzled his neck affectionately.

He carried her to his bedroom and placed her gently on the bed.

"Where are you going?" she called.

"I'm turning on the heat." The rattle of the radiator, evolving into a steady hum, confirmed it as he returned to her, loosening his tie and removing his glasses. "Where were we?"

She finished undoing the knot in his tie and began to unbutton his shirt. Every move was careful and meticulous, just the way she did her sewing, the way she paid attention to anything she cared about. His hands fumbled around to reach the zipper on the back of her dress, and he tugged gently until he heard the familiar unzipping sound. They both freed their arms from the unnecessary garments, and she dragged him all the way on top of her on the bed. He traced patterns over her collarbones and breathed hot air onto her ear, then nibbled on the edge. She let out a yip of surprise and ghosted a hand over his abdomen, making him pause. She took this opportunity to nip at his collarbone, grinning at the pleasing sound he made. He began to fuss with the fastener on her bra, and she obligingly flipped over to give him a clearer view.

* * *

Her movements awoke him, and he sat up slightly to see her get up from the bed. She walked over to the heater and turned it off (the silence was a bit off-putting at first and took a few seconds for both of them to adjust) and then came back.

"I don't think we need it," she murmured as she got back under the covers, rolling over so that she lay neatly in his arms.

"I think you're right," he replied, kissing her on the forehead.


End file.
